


A Strange Cry For Help

by theRadioStarr



Series: The Lion Among the Wolves [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Mages and Templars, Templar Skills, Templar Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 09:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4216911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theRadioStarr/pseuds/theRadioStarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Companion piece to Capitolina Lupa, taking place during Chapter 41: For the Word of Silence.</p>
<p>Alistair's position as Leader of the Wardens of Orlais and Liaison to the Inquisition have left him with far more paperwork than he's used to - but when he finally sits down to tackle it all, he receives a rather strange interruption. </p>
<p>Oh, well. Reports may not complete themselves, but who is he to say no to the Commander?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Strange Cry For Help

**Author's Note:**

> This is best read after Chapter 41: For the Word of Silence, as it takes place between the first and second sections of that Chapter. If you haven't read that one yet, I would suggest taking a look at it.
> 
> But, hey, I don't actually make rules. It's more of a guideline, anyway, Read whichever one you want!

Alistair pressed his stiff shoulders into the back of his chair, his spine arching as he stretched himself to the point of shaking. He relaxed with a satisfied groan, and then he scooted down in the seat until his rear was barely hanging on the end, locking his knees and pushing his heels as far away from himself as he could, until his legs were quaking with the stretch, too.

When he was done, he sighed contentedly, sitting up properly in his chair so he could get back to work.

He was absolutely swamped in paperwork today; he’d been putting it off, but now that the Commander was leaving with the Inquisitor in the morning, it couldn’t be held off any longer. He had volunteered to help train the soldiers any time Cullen left on business months ago, and so Cullen had written him into the schedule, keeping him very busy with the soldiers and running the army.

Not that Alistair minded all that much; training soldiers was better than writing reports _any_ day.

Still, someone had been struck with the bright idea that _he_ should be the one responsible for the Wardens of Orlais. If there was one thing he could actually be grateful to Natia for (despite there now being three), it was her reluctance to push him towards Kingship. Alistair didn’t _like_ to lead, and a King who led out of necessity instead of will would be a poor King, indeed.

Apparently Weisshaupt hadn’t received the memo.

The reports were _endless_ , but Alistair dove right back in to them. His office was in a high-traffic zone, and the sound of armoured footfalls was common enough that he no longer paid them any heed. As such, he didn’t even notice the pair that stomped up the hallway and halted in his open door until the owner of said boots cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Alistair.”

Alistair’s head whipped up. He was surprised to find Cullen standing there, actually _leaning_ against the doorframe wearily, his expression tired and stressed.

“Oh, Commander! Come on in,” Alistair invited as he signed off on the report he had (thankfully) just finished. He looked up in time to see Cullen stride a few steps into the room, before stopping abruptly for a few seconds. He spun on his heel and closed the door before moving back to the centre of the room.

“Sit down, man, and relax,” Alistair told him, his brows pulling together, worried about the stiff line of Cullen’s shoulders. “You’re acting strange. What’s going on?”

Cullen didn’t answer right away. Alistair watched him as he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as a flush crept into his cheeks. _Sweet Maker, what is going on?_

“You can still use your Templar skills, can’t you?” Cullen finally asked. “Even though you were conscripted to the Wardens before you had to take any vows?”

_What a bizarre question._ “Yeeeeeees,” Alistair answered after a second or two of silence. “And so can you? Where did this come from?” He waited for Cullen’s response, which came in the form of a frustrated sigh as more colour flooded his face. “Oh, I get it… Never thought Lupa the type for that sort of thing, but whatever works, I suppose.”

Cullen instantly looked horrified. “No, that’s not what I – Maker’s breath.”

“And here I thought you came to have a visit so we could gossip about our women,” Alistair pouted, and Cullen snorted at him. “Well, if that isn’t the reason you’re asking me such a bizarre question, would you care to enlighten me with the real reason?”

Again, Cullen didn’t answer right away. His earlier, sullen expression had returned. “Leliana has found Samson’s hideaway for me.”

“So I’d heard,” Alistair nodded. “Where is it?”

Cullen stared at his hands in his lap. “A Shrine dedicated to Dumat.”

Alistair felt himself frowning again. “Dumat?” he echoed. “I suppose it isn’t such a far stretch, since Evil-Magister-Lord-Who-Created-The-Blights, whatever his name is. But why is that so – oh. _Oh._ That’s… _very_ bad,” Alistair murmured as the realization of what Cullen was getting at finally sunk in.

“I’m going with her, as you know,” Cullen nodded gravely. “But I thought that, maybe, I’d be able to put my old skills to use to help keep her safe – there are no _real_ Templars in the Imperium, so they’d be at a supreme disadvantage, but…”

“But you’re used to calling on them with lyrium in your system now,” Alistair finished for him.

Cullen nodded again. “I’d happily take it again for this, if it meant keeping her safe, but she’d be furious if she found out I’d done it, especially for her. She’d feel responsible. I can’t do that to her, and I don’t think I’d be able to quit again if I did. I’ve been doing so well recently…” He blinked rapidly a few times to clear his senses. “Anyway, when I tried using my skills during the siege of Adamant, it didn’t go so well. I asked Seeker Pentaghast, and she suggested asking for your help to remind me of how to call on them without the lyrium fresh in my blood.”

Alistair stared at the Commander across the desk from him. It was unlike Cullen to look so meek; he _always_ had an air of command about him, the sort that made even Alistair feel like he was supposed to grovel and kiss the man’s boots to escape his ire.

“You’re really worried about all this, aren’t you?”

Cullen sighed again, and nodded. “Please tell me you’ll help,” he pleaded. “Do you think I could learn what I need this afternoon? Before dinner?”

Alistair looked at the reports on his desk before heaving a heavy sigh of his own. He reached out with his right hand to grab his sword from where it was propped against his desk, sliding its scabbard into the clasps on his back, before standing and bending to grab his shield where it stood on his left. “If you’re half as good as they say you were, you should have it mastered in an hour,” Alistair teased him, watching his shoulders strengthen under the weight of the challenge he had just thrown out. _Good_. This was the Commander he knew and respected.

Cullen was on his feet by the time Alistair made it around his desk, and they left his office, a silent nod of thanks passing between them as Alistair pulled his door closed behind them.

_Well…So much for getting all those reports done today._

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little drabble. Wanted to have some explanation in place in case this comes up later (and I have a feeling it might). Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is always welcome, either here or on tumblr at lupalavellan.tumblr.com.


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